Amelia: Let me know as soon as he emails you.
Smiling, I tuck my phone away and squeal. I might be able to write this article. Then I frown, remembering how I decided to take London off the table officially, but it’s for the best. Obsessing over a fantasy isn’t healthy.
I walk into Theater Three of the small cinema and sit next to Kami.
My M&M’s have melted into my popcorn, and I dig in as the movie starts.
Looks like I missed the trailers…but was it worth it?
Chapter Eleven
GRAYSON
Ilook over my shoulder one last time to see Emma’s small, familiar frame disappearing into the narrow hallway. Once she’s out of sight, my right hand—the one she touched—unclenches from its fist, and I flex it, bringing some feeling back into it. My jaw relaxes, and my body sags. The harsh mask I wear falls away, and I let out a deep breath.
This article is a fucked-up idea. Yeah, it’s a good ideafora story, but she’ll be too close to me for too long in a situation where we shouldn’t be close or alone. I’m asking for trouble, and for what?
A girl I met almost two months ago?
A girl who managed to—no, that’s enough. It’s not worth dwelling on anymore. I’ll pass on the article and call it a day. But what the fuck does that make me if she’s willing to let London go?
A child. A thirty-one-year-old man-child.
Goddammit.
Making my way to my four-door pickup truck, I see my little sister’s head bobbingto what sounds like rock music. Well, not so little anymore, just having turned twenty-eight. She hated my new car the moment she saw it. I’m not a big fan of pickuptrucks either, but it’s new, gets great mileage, and has storage for carrying things back and forth to the soup kitchen.
I open the passenger door, and Lainey continues to bob her head. “Parasite” by Kiss blasts from the big speakers in the car. “I take back everything I said about pickup trucks before. These speakers are fucking awesome!” she yells so loudly, I’m pretty sure people inside the theater can hear her.
I lean over to turn the volume down.
“Get your ass out of the driver’s seat, crazy,” I yell over the still semi-loud music.
She rolls her eyes as she climbs over the console, and I head to my side of the car. As I get in, I turn the music down to a reasonable volume.
“Fuck, Lainey. This is the kind of shit that makes it hard to believe you chose an orchestra to tour with over a band.” I shake my head and start to drive out of the parking lot, ignoring all thoughts of the short, blonde-haired girl I’m leaving behind.
Lainey scoffs. “Not just any orchestra, G. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra, where we’ll be touring in Europe and then back in the US.” My little sister jumps up and down in her seat, and I crack a smile.
Both of my siblings can always bring a huge grin to my face, and I’m damn proud to be their big brother. However, they can piss me off just as fast.
Growing up, my sister was the most rebellious of the three of us. We could call it middle child syndrome if she and Wesley weren’t twins. He just turned out to be more like me—more like our father.
Lainey had Mom’s free spirit until she turned eighteen and decided to settle down after getting into a decent four-year school in Boston, just a short drive from our parents’ place. She chose the major she thought would please my dad the most: biology. And fuck, did she hate it.
Sure, it helped her grow up, but she was miserable there. Staying in Massachusetts, living a mundane life, while her twinbrother, Wesley, and I were chasing our dreams. His dream of becoming an ER doctor, which he’s pursuing in Connecticut, and mine of becoming a chef, which now looks a little different.
The three of us were scattered across the country until we got that call ten years ago.
“And Kiss rocks. And so do Queen, Aerosmith, Pink Floyd, and many others. I may play Mozart, Beethoven, and Bach on tour, but I can play some killer rock songs on my cello in my room.” Lainey throws her feet on the dashboard.
“Off!”
She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, whatever. You’re no fun.”
A small huff leaves me.
“So, who was that girl back there?”